H Buys H
by DianeB
Summary: A "scene-we-didn't-see" from SS. Hagrid is determined to buy Harry a proper present for his 11th birthday, and someone is determined to be bought. Hedwig's my girl!


Title: H Buys H  
Author: DianeB  
Rating: PG  
Summary: Hagrid wants to buy Harry a proper present for his eleventh birthday. Set during the scene in Diagon Alley from the movie "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone." Written in May, 2008.  
Author's Note: Thanks to MEG for her valuable assistance as editor and her knowledge of the Potterverse.  
Disclaimer: This is my first attempt at writing in this fandom, so please be kind. I especially ask forgiveness for errors made with regard to money and the value of things. Consulting several websites only afforded me conflicting information! In the end, I took MEG's advice and did the best I could.

* * *

Hagrid knew his ridiculous birthday cake would never be enough of a gift for the young wizard – never mind that that stupid git, Dudley, had demolished it. (Snickering to himself, he recalled the entertaining sight of that little piggy tail on that great oaf of a young Muggle.) No, Hagrid knew he needed to pick something very, very special for Harry Potter.

Strolling down the Alley, glancing absently into various shop windows, he considered buying out Florean Fortescue's, but realized he didn't quite have the money for that. As a matter of fact, he didn't quite have the money for _anything_, never mind _he'd_ be the stupid git if he bought out an ice cream parlor for Harry. Besides, the ice cream would melt away long before the boy could ever eat it all.

Passing the Magical Menagerie, he stopped and backed up, placing the edge of a beefy hand against the window and examining the animals on display.

There was a stunning brindle-and-white hooded rat, a number of spiders (which Hagrid thought must have had some magical assistance, given they were fuchsia with chartreuse polka dots), three purple toads, each larger than both his hands combined, one streeler, currently green, and a self-transfiguring rabbit that kept turning itself into a silk top hat and back. The rabbit was pure white and very attractive, but Hagrid thought the hat thing could be a bit of a problem, especially if Harry couldn't teach the beast to slow down. Maybe if it could be taught to turn itself into a galleon or two. . .

Which brought Hagrid back to his current moneyless state. Patting his pockets and mumbling to himself, he did a mental inventory of what he had besides coin. Let's see, he thought, patting one pocket, there was his vial of armadillo bile, alongside the envelope of chopped bicorn horn. He patted another, hearing the crinkle of parchment that indicated his packet of dried dragon liver. Reaching into an inside lower pocket, he pulled out his bag of sliced ginger root, and finally a small abalone-shell bottle, this one containing the hard-to-get powdered scarab beetle.

At that, he had a thought. Obscurus Books was just down the way, and Hagrid figured he must have at least a few of the ingredients for _some _type of potion, though he wasn't sure of that, since he wasn't much on potions. Still, if he had anything at all, he knew someone at the bookstore would know for sure and just might accept a deal from him (unlike those highbrows at Flourish and Blotts). He thought briefly about going to the Apothecary, but the place smelled so bad it was hard to stay in there for any length of time. And besides, the Apothecary already had plenty of potion ingredients; they didn't need his. Nope, he'd try Obscurus, and if his pal Newt happened to be there, so much the better.

oOo oOo oOo

Luck was with Hagrid this day. Newt was in Obscurus, in the back, taking inventory of his book, _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ for re-order. When Hagrid showed Newt what he had, Newt cheerfully agreed to help broker the deal between Hagrid and the shopkeeper, whose name was Sol.

As it turned out, Hagrid had the main ingredients for a lovely Wit Sharpening Potion (those being armadillo bile, sliced ginger root – thank goodness it wasn't the crystallized variety, which wasn't good for much of anything but curing sea-sickness in Muggles, so said Sol – and powdered scarab beetle, the ingredient that sealed the deal, because it was difficult to come by).

Sol gave Hagrid a ruddy good price for the lot, since, he explained, it was the start of term, and he knew he could sell the stuff in record time. Not everyone, Sol said sagely, went to the Apothecary for their potion ingredients, if for no other reason than it stunk to high heaven and you could barely stand to be in there long enough to buy what you needed. Neither Hagrid nor Newt could argue with this statement.

And so it was that Hagrid – after thanking Sol and agreeing to meet Newt later in the month for lunch – left Obscurus Books lighter by one bottle, one vial, and a bag, but with 20 galleons, 13 sickles, and 17 knuts tied in a pouch at his gargantuan waist and a huge grin splitting his great bearded face. Life was good for Rubeus Hagrid.

Hurrying along the bustling Alley, his mind still on the rat from the Menagerie, Hagrid passed by Eeylops Owl Emporium with hardly a glance. However, in that glance, something caught his eye, something he was not expecting, and it unnerved him a little. He slowed, reversed his step, and looked into Eeylops's front window. There, in a cage set back from the front, a pair of yellow eyes peered out from between the bars. Giving his own black eyes a moment to adjust to the dimness of the shop's interior, Hagrid soon realized he was looking at a large, white owl that wasn't just peering out, but staring _directly at him_. In an effort to shake the weird feeling this produced, he pulled his eyes away from the bird and looked both to his left and right down the Alley. But he was unable to keep his eyes from returning to the owl's, whose vivid yellow orbs had remained unblinkingly right on him.

Still, Hagrid was nothing if not fearless, especially when it came to beasts of all sorts, and he wasn't about to let a staring owl bother him, no matter how _bothered_ he was becoming. He went to the door and pulled it open, going without hesitation straight up to the cage.

"'ello there, love," he cooed, ignoring his thumping heart and extending a meaty finger through the bars. The owl didn't try to bite him, or even move at all, but his action caused the shopkeeper, Marshall, to cry out a warning.

"Watch 'er there, Hagrid, she doesn't bite, so much as make you _think_ she's going to, which actually hurts worse. Not sure how or why she does it, but so far she's done it to everyone who's approached her. I can't seem to get her to stop." He shook his head. "Bad for business, she is. Beautiful, but bad for business."

Hagrid, whose finger was still inside the cage, was of course rightly startled when he saw not a beak but a feathered talon rise and close, ever-so-gently, around his finger. Recognizing that this bird had from the start done nothing usual with regard to him, Hagrid at once began to look at her in a different light. Unfortunately, since he had never found owls to be interesting enough for his tastes, he'd never bothered to learn much about them. Careful to keep his finger still, he turned his massive head to the shopkeeper. "What kinda owl is she then?"

Marshall huffed under his breath. Himself a first-class ornithologist with a specialty in birds of prey, he could never understand why everyone didn't share his passion for these extraordinary creatures. Nevertheless, he was all for education, and so advised Hagrid she was a Snowy Owl, one of only thirteen species in Europe, and that she was also a species found in the United States. Females were generally larger than males and had more black barring on their plumage. Except, of course, for this one, who was whiter than any female Snowy he had ever seen.

Hagrid turned back to the gorgeous white owl, whose talon was still securely, but tenderly, wrapped around his finger. He wiggled the trapped finger, but she did neither let go nor tighten her grip. Instead, she cocked her head ever-so slightly, hooted softly, and then didn't so much as wink at him as drop one eyelid in more of a purposeful gesture than any sort of natural owl-like behavior, all the while keeping gentle hold of his digit.

It was like she was _telling him_ to buy her.

As the odd _bothered _feeling abruptly lifted, and the weight of the coins at his midsection pleasantly reminded him he surely had the asking price for this magnificent bird, Hagrid knew without doubt that he had found Harry's perfect gift.

End.


End file.
